


Glittering Blackness

by OnTheTurningAway



Series: Mating Games - 2014 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheTurningAway/pseuds/OnTheTurningAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a mission to deliver critically necessary vaccine to Beacon colony, pilot Chris Argent discovers he's not alone on his ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glittering Blackness

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Cold Equations" by Tom Godwin, on which an eponymous episode of _The Twilight Zone_ was based. 
> 
> Written for Mating Games challenge #4 - Light or Dark. Please heed the warnings!
> 
> Many thanks to [ArcadianMaggie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadianMaggie) for looking this over.

* * *

Chris is halfway to Beacon colony when he's roused by the alarm. He'd struggled to stay awake but eventually the quiet hum of his spacecraft in the eerie silence of the universe had lulled him into a restless sleep.

The ship's fuel gauge flashes an ominous amber and Chris scrambles to run a diagnostic check from the control panel. The fuel level indicator is dropping steadily and more than half the ship's fuel is already gone.

"That's impossible," he mutters, pulling up the pre-launch checklist. Chris is a veteran pilot; he'd verified all of his calculations, twice, before setting out on his mission, making sure to account for the weight of the vaccine he's delivering to the virus-plagued outpost.

With the quadrant's fuel crisis at a critical level, he's left little room for error. Chris' ship is the lightest in the fleet and he's maximized efficiency by removing all non-essential equipment prior to launch.

The numbers don't add up. Unless…

Chris jumps to his feet and pulls his gun from his thigh holster, then races to the cargo hold.

+

"What the hell were you thinking?" He slams his hand against the wall. He can't get the severity of the situation through the kid's thick skull.

"This was the only ship heading to Beacon for weeks!"

"Of course it is. Beacon is in the middle of the fucking warzone!" Chris grabs Stiles by the collar and lodges the gun under his chin.

"Don’t you think I know that?" Stiles squirms furiously, but Chris' grip is too tight.

"Four hundred are dead because of this virus. The rest are counting on _me_ to save them." Chris grits his teeth. "Now, thanks to _you_ , I'll never get there."

He sees the moment the consequences of Stiles' foolish actions finally settle in. 

"My dad," Stiles chokes out. "Scott. I wanted to see them."

Chris rubs a hand over his scruff. "Don't give up yet."

+

"Well?" Stiles asks anxiously. "Did it work?"

They've stripped the ship of everything they can think of—flushed the food and waste systems, ripped ultralight panels from walls, shed every stitch of clothing—and piled it into the airlock before releasing it into space.

Chris checks the flight trajectory. "We're close, but it's not enough. We're still overweight."

"We can ditch the vaccine!" Stiles says frantically.

"Then what? We make it to Beacon and die alongside everyone else?"

Stiles' choked sobs break the heavy silence.

"This is my fault. God, my own fucking father!" Tears stream down his face. "I missed him so much, and now I've killed them all."

Chris pulls Stiles to him, tries to console him, holds him close. Stiles is so young, probably the same age Allison would have been if—.

"Shhh," he whispers into Stiles' hair. Stiles' eyes are wild when Chris leans back to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He slides their mouths together to calm Stiles' panicked breathing. 

Their kisses quickly become desperate and they fall to the floor. The cool metal is nothing compared to the searing heat of Stiles' naked body. 

Stiles ruts furiously into the dip of his hip and tears splash on Chris' neck and chest like warm summer rain. Chris barely gets a hand around them before Stiles' come hits his belly in hot spurts.

It's over too quickly.

It never should have happened at all.

+

He could make it. 

He could knock Stiles out with the butt of his gun, drag him into the airlock. Without Stiles' added weight, Chris could make it to Beacon.

_"Any stowaway discovered shall be jettisoned immediately."_

It's written in the very code Chris has pledged his life to protect.

+

Chris untangles himself from Stiles' limbs and walks to the auxiliary control panel.

"What are you doing?"

"Adjusting the auto-pilot settings to account for the weight reduction," Chris says. "Find CMO McCall when you get there. She'll know how to administer the vaccine."

"Wait, what?" Stiles asks, rubbing his eyes.

"You have your whole life ahead of you, Stiles." Chris steps into the airlock. "It's the only way."

Realization and horror dawn on Stiles' face. "No! Chris, no!" 

Stiles scrambles to his feet, runs to the door, screams and pounds his fists against it.

But it's too late. 

Chris is already gone.

The shock and guilt overwhelm Stiles and he sinks to the floor.

Stiles can still feel the phantom press of Chris' lips against his, Chris' hands on his body, as he hurtles through glittering blackness, alone.


End file.
